


Uninvited Guest

by elennalore



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aman (Tolkien), First Meetings, Gen, M/M, Mind Games, Years of the Trees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27249097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elennalore/pseuds/elennalore
Summary: Melkor arrives at Formenos. He wants to meet Fëanáro, but unfortunately only Maitimo and Nerdanel are home.
Relationships: Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo, Maedhros | Maitimo & Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	Uninvited Guest

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Kutsumaton vieras](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25726297) by [elennalore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elennalore/pseuds/elennalore). 



> I wrote this fic originally in Finnish. This English translation, also done by me, is as close as the original work as possible. Only slight editing for a better reading experience has been made.

You wanted to hear a story, Findekáno. Well, here’s one for you.

It happened during the Years of the Trees when we lived in Formenos. I know you never visited that northern fortress, never saw those mighty walls that surrounded our tall stone houses, forges and redoubts. A lot of people who were faithful to my father moved there with us. Our home was usually full of hustle and bustle all day long. But this time, everybody was out somewhere, the house was quiet and only Nerdanel and I were home.

I remember how it started. At first, it was only a vague feeling.

“My arm has gone numb,” I complained to Nerdanel. “I can’t maintain this posture any more. Let’s take a break.”

She was measuring me with her gaze from behind her drawing stand and hummed softly to herself. I wasn’t sure if she had even heard me. I was beginning to get a cramp in my shoulder muscles. My arm was trembling and I wanted nothing more than a chance of stretching my muscles a bit. But it would have ruined the posture my mother had been looking for a long time. She was now quickly sketching the pose, her future sculpture in her mind.

“Wait,” she breathed when I moved only a little so that the tremor would stop.

The posture started to feel very uncomfortable. It felt like some heavy weight was squeezing me. Breathing became difficult, and I had a horrible headache as if the air had thinned out for some weird reason.

Suddenly we looked at each other, my mother and I, and I realized something was really wrong. From her eyes I saw that the compressing feeling had filled her as well. I dropped the spear I had been holding in throwing position.

“The Powers,” I whispered, nonplussed. It’s such an indescribable feeling, yet you always remember it if you ever have been near the Valar. Now them, or some of them, were in Formenos. That did not bode well. I glanced around the room thinking that anything could happen.

“Put your clothes on,” Nerdanel hurried me and handed a pile of clothes to me.

At the same moment, someone hit the door knocker loudly. The sound echoed from the stone walls like a sledgehammer. We exchanged glances. I guess I looked as startled as my mother.

“Fëanáro isn’t home,” my mother said. We both knew that if the Valar were arrived, they were here because of my father. Perhaps Ñolofinwë, in the end, had demanded for harsher punishment for my father than mere banishment from Tirion.

“He went riding with Finwë.”

How I wished that grandfather had been there. He would have gone to the door, and he would have certainly calmed down the situation.

I dressed quickly in my tunic and cloak. Now it was my task to go to the door.

“Wait here,” I said to Nerdanel, but she followed me stubbornly all the way to the entrance hall. She was still dressed in her dusty work coat. There was a charcoal stain on her cheek.

I half opened the door, and there he stood and stared me back, not even blinking his eyes. The one whom Tulkas had been searching for had somehow found his way past the guards of the fortress, and to our door. Melkor was that skilled.

Had I ever before been so close to him? Had I ever been so close to any Vala? In Valinor they spent time mostly with themselves. For a moment I was flattered that one of them had bothered to come to visit us. Then I looked deep in his black eyes – a weird light shone there – and I tried to pull the door shut, in vain. He caught hold of the door and prevented me from closing it. His will won. I let the door be.

“I have business with Curufinwë Fëanáro,” he said in a voice that echoed in my head. His power was overwhelming, but he didn’t try to enter by force, just looked questioningly at me.

“He is not here.”

“I can wait.” He was measuring me with his gaze a bit like Nerdanel had done just a while ago while sketching. “You are Nelyafinwë.”

I smirked. It wasn’t a question; he wasn’t the kind of person who had to ask, and I didn’t need to answer. I wanted to command him to leave, and I think he would have obeyed me. But it was too big a decision for me to make, and he probably knew it. Perhaps my father wanted to know what business Melkor had with him. Pieces of important information about the Valar? Every little piece of news was valuable in the isolation of Formenos. I could already imagine my father’s expression when I’d tell him that I had shut the door in front of Melkor. He would not be happy. My father didn’t trust the Valar, but Melkor was in a different class.

No, this was too big a matter for me to decide. I stepped away from the door.

“You can wait for Fëanáro in the hall,” I said and let him enter my home. “I don’t know when he will return.”

He was only a little taller than I was, but his presence filled the room and made the big entrance hall suddenly constricted. I was having pressure on my chest, and I retreated on instinct. Nerdanel came to stand beside me. I saw she wanted to say something to me, but not while our guest was within hearing distance.

Instead, she guided Melkor to sit in a lone armchair in the hall. The chair was surrounded by a respectable collection of towering sculptures, all of them my mother’s works, of course. In her most imposing voice that didn’t suit with her painter’s jacket, she said: “You must be here for my husband. Wait here, if you please. I’ll get us some refreshments.” And, turning to me: “Come help your mother, Nelyo.”

I got the hint and slipped away from the hall after her.

The stairs to the wine cellar were in the back of the kitchen. We went down the stairs and closed the heavy door behind us before we dared to speak again.

“My _palantír_ ,” Nerdanel whispered. She had kept one of the seeing stones in order to secretly keep in touch with Anairë. I used the stone to discuss with you, but my mother didn’t know that. “We could contact Ñolofinwë. Tell him that _he_ is here.”

“Ñolofinwë will alert the Valar. We don’t want more of their kind here.” If the Powers found out that Melkor - who they had been searching for so long - had been located, they would send Tulkas to claim him. It would get messy. Formenos would perhaps not stand it.

“Let your father decide what to do. We must only make sure that he doesn’t get into...”

We stared at each other in the dimly lit wine cellar, suddenly afraid. There were no servants in the house, for there were few my father trusted. But two of his most faithful soldiers always stood on guard at the iron door of the treasury. I wondered if they would offer any real resistance against Melkor if he decided to break in the chamber where the Silmarils were kept.

We had been fools, we had left Melkor to be on his own.

“I’ll go and check that everything is as it should be in the east wing,” my mother said suddenly. The treasury was located in the east wing.

She handed a bottle of the best Corollairë wine to me. “Take this to him. You’ll find crystal glasses and a tray in the kitchen. Better to go quickly!”

But when I arrived at the entrance hall carrying a tray with wine, Melkor was there, as it should be. He had stood up and was studying Nerdanel’s sculptures. Just now, he was measuring with his gaze Ñolofinwë in ring armour. It was a sculpture that Fëanáro pointedly ignored. When Nerdanel had finished working with the statue, he had voiced his objections, but in the end, Nerdanel got her way. That’s why the statue of your father still stood among others in the hall. Apparently, father was used to it.

I put the tray on the side table. The sculptures seemed to interest Melkor more than wine. The entrance hall had high walls, but the presence of the Vala filled the room. There was a feeling of pressure on my chest. Suddenly I didn’t dare to disturb him so I remained standing next to the armchair and watched him studying the sculpture. The Light of the Trees illumined him through the window.

His form was tall and noble, and he was dressed in dark clothes decorated with silver thread. The white skin of the neck looked pale against the raven-black hair. It was as if black and white were his only colours. Very slowly, he turned to face me and the pressure in my head increased as a response to his attention. I dropped my gaze quickly. I didn’t want to give an appearance of staring. The thought crossed my mind that his lips were a glaring shade of red against the pale face. The only colourful part of him, I thought. An amused smile had been curving those lips just before I turned my gaze away.

I forced myself to meet his eyes again. I was the host and he was a guest, and I had a right to look at him if I wanted to.

An amused smile still flickered across his face.

“I would never have imagined seeing here the statue of the one who is responsible for your father’s banishment from Tirion. It’s sometimes hard to understand the minds of the Noldor.” Melkor turned to study the sculptured Ñolofinwë’s sword belt and shield. “Bellicose, even.”

I wished that I had had even a dagger on my belt, but contrary to Melkor’s claims, we Noldor weren’t so bellicose that we would carry weapons at home. Not yet.

Just then, my mother returned to the hall, giving me an inconspicuous nod. That took a load off my mind. The Silmarils were safe, her eyes told me. She handed Melkor a glass of wine, which he accepted. However, the Vala continued to observe the sculptures.

“And here,” Melkor said, moving to the next statue, “is your cousin Findekáno, if I am not mistaken.”

It was one of the sculptures my mother had taken with her from Valinor. You had been posing for her that summer when everything had changed between us. The sculpture was wearing only a small piece of cloth, for my mother had wanted to sculpt your body as it was under the clothes. It is definitely one of her best works.

Melkor brushed the sculpture’s muscular back with his impudent fingers. _He has no right to touch Findekáno like that_ , I thought, _not even a statue! Only I am allowed to do that_. I swallowed. I didn’t dare to say anything. Did he do it on purpose? My heart was beating fast. Did he know our secret? Not even our parents knew! Melkor’s hand was bolder now. It had moved lower, and it was pressing harder against the marble lower back. My anger was rising, and when I raised my eyes, I saw him looking back at me with eyes that knew. They just knew.

As if unawares, he stroked the smooth surface of the buttock. It was just the same spot that I so often secretly stroked myself when I passed the sculpture. How could he possibly know that spot? Nerdanel smiled politely at our uninvited guest. She thought Melkor was just admiring her lifelike sculpture. She didn’t know. She didn’t know!

“Don’t touch him!” The words got out with a flash of anger. The rage in my voice gave my mother quite a start. She turned to look at me, and maybe she was beginning to understand something that she should have realized before. Perhaps there was something I should have told her before.

Melkor wasn’t startled by my words. He didn’t even lift his hand, but run his index finger along the muscles of a marble thigh as if to find out how far I’d let him go.

Anger made me take a step forward, but I hesitated. He was one of the Powers. What would happen if I hit him? If I pushed his bullying hand away? Would the Valar thank me, or put a curse on me for opposing their kin? I didn’t know back then; now I know better. I should have hit him.

A moment later, Nerdanel was beside me. She gestured at Melkor to step back, still smiling politely.

“Maitimo is right. My sculptures are delicate. The energy loaded into them can easily be dimmed by the touch of someone like you.”

For a while, the three of us just stood there and stared at each other. I realized I had closed my fingers to form a tight fist. Finally Melkor retreated, but his eyes were black flames.

“I understand,” he said to Nerdanel. “Elf magic.”

“I wouldn’t call it magic,” my mother said and gave a shrug. “Just some knowledge and skills, and a touch of love. Those are my tools.”

* * * * *

We were both relieved when Fëanáro arrived. He stormed into the house holding a sword in his hand, making the door hit the wall as he entered. He must have sensed the oppressive feeling that surrounded Melkor. Now that I had spent some time around him, I knew the feeling was different from that of the other Powers.

“You!” Fëanáro shouted, and turned to point towards the armchair with his sword. Melkor was already standing. He seemed to be able to move faster than a thought if he wanted. For a moment, it looked like there would be a fight in the hall. I began moving next to my father even though I didn’t have a sword. From the corner of my eye, I saw Finwë standing by the door.

“Fëanáro, we are unharmed!” Nerdanel shouted.

“I just want to talk,” Melkor said in a cold voice, turning to face my father. “I have news that should interest you.”

Fëanáro looked at me, and I gave him a little nod to reassure him that I was all right. And I was, as long as I didn’t think of Melkor’s impudent hands on the statue of you, Findekáno.

Sighing theatrically, father lowered his sword and stepped forward. Finwë followed, and there was no kindness in his eyes as he looked at Melkor.

“Well, say what you have to say.”

“Not here. My news are for your ears only.”

Father sighed again, but I saw he was curious about the news the Vala might have for him. “All right.” Not even Finwë’s objections made him hesitate. He guided Melkor to his office where he usually took care of his correspondence.

When they had gone, we came to life.

“Everything is all right,” Nerdanel tried to reassure Finwë. “Fëanáro can manage on his own. But I could stay near the _palantír_ , just in case. Come with me, Nelyo.”

“I am needed here.”

“You can’t do anything here without your sword. Come now, please.”

I followed her with reluctance. Perhaps I could get my sword from the armory? The thought that I might have to use it both terrified and fascinated me. I wanted to hurt Melkor for the way he touched the statue of you.

We hurried into the room where my mother kept the _palantír_. She pressed the hidden locking mechanism of the round table. The black stone appeared, but she didn’t step within its reach yet.

Instead, she looked at me intently. There was an odd expression on her face.

“What is it?”

“Findekáno and you,” she said at last. “You are a bit more than friends, aren’t you?”

There was a glimmer in her eyes, but it took me a moment to see that she was trying very hard not to smile.

I held a finger to my lips. “Please don’t tell father.” Her slight smile told me that this secret would remain ours.

* * * * *

When my father threw Melkor out of our home, he didn’t save words. I finally had my sword, and now I rushed to the hall, afraid that it was too late. However, Fëanáro’s angry curses had already driven Melkor to the front door. No weapons were needed. Perhaps he even knew that we could send word of his visit to Tirion within an eyeblink. It would be better to flee.

“Get out, you jail-crow!” my father shouted his final words at the black Vala, and slammed the door shut in front of him. I wondered what Melkor had said to make him so angry. Had I made the wrong decision by letting the Vala in?

For a moment we stood there in silence: my father, Finwë and I. We waited in case Melkor would try to enter by force, but nothing happened. Little by little, the pressure on my chest eased off.

“He is gone,” I said.

“For the time being,” said Finwë. Melkor’s visit seemed to have taken the light from his eyes. He looked tired.

Father looked gloomy. “His words betrayed him. He is after the Silmarils.”

I hesitated for a moment, but I needed to ask it. “Can he read minds?”

Both my father and grandfather gave a puzzled look at me. “What did he say to you?” Fëanáro snapped.

Melkor didn’t really say anything, I realized. He just implied that he knew. Knew about you and me. It was as if he had invaded my mind, found my dearest secret that I bore there, and played with it.

Suddenly I felt unclean. But I couldn’t tell any of it to my father. Another secret to bear. So I just shook my head, avoiding the question.

Such was my first meeting with Moringotto. And this was how my mother learned about you and me, Findekáno. That’s all for now, although the story will continue, as you very well know. Perhaps one day I’ll tell you more, but not today. Not today.

(Tonight, I will dream about his hands on your body, and it’ll be a nightmare. I still don’t regret telling you this.)


End file.
